


Staying

by wheel_pen



Series: Viridian Trip [2]
Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fish out of Water, Gen, Imprinting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-13
Updated: 2013-04-13
Packaged: 2017-12-08 10:00:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/760086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wheel_pen/pseuds/wheel_pen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Enterprise finds a Viridian ship, and Jon assumes Trip will soon be going home. But the Viridians have a few things to explain to them about how imprinting works.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Staying

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. Viridians appear human, but are actually aliens who imprint on other people (Viridian or otherwise) and form a bond with them. They also live their entire life cycle in about six Earth years.
> 
> 2\. In each series, a different character is a Viridian, who was raised by mean Klingons on an outpost. An Enterprise crewmember is captured by the Klingons and they inadvertently form a bond with the Viridian, who helps them escape. Then they return to rescue the Viridian and bring them aboard the Enterprise. The Viridian homeworld is contacted and the Enterprise crew learn the Viridian will most likely die if they are sent away. So they end up staying on the Enterprise, and the crewmember has to adjust.
> 
> 3\. The bad words are censored. That’s just how I do things.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this AU. I own nothing and appreciate the chance to play in this universe.

            He was playing with Porthos in the Captain's quarters when the call came. " _Trip, please report to the Bridge._ " It was Jon, so he wasted no time getting there. He liked being on the Bridge anyway—it was always humming with activity, and more importantly it was where the Captain usually was.

            When he stepped out of the lift the first thing he saw was Jon, standing in front of his chair, smiling at him. Trip smiled back. Then the Captain turned back to the viewscreen, where a woman Trip had never seen before was watching them. "Trip, this is Captain Anshara," Archer told him. "She and her crew are Viridian."

            _Like me_ , Trip thought, gazing at the woman contemplatively. He knew they'd been tracking the Viridian merchant ship, but he didn't realize they would find it so soon.

            Archer seemed pleased as he continued, "They're on a course back to Viridia." A suspicion began forming in Trip's mind and he didn't like it, no matter how much everyone was smiling. "They can take you back to your homeworld," the Captain went on, watching Trip's expression fall with trepidation. "To your family, maybe." The younger man was glancing quickly between the viewscreen and the Captain, increasingly distressed. Maybe announcing this to him on the Bridge hadn't been such a good idea. Archer started towards him. "I know the idea can be overwhelming, after you've been away so long—"

            "You don't want me here anymore?" Trip demanded suddenly, and Archer realized his worst mistake. "You're sending me away?"

            The Captain reached out to him. "No, Trip, nothing like that," he insisted. "But these are your people. Don't you think there's someone waiting for you back home—a parent or sibling maybe—"

            "I don't _know_ them," Trip protested, encompassing both the woman on screen and the planet she'd come from. "Are you mad at me? Did I do something wrong?"

            He sounded so plaintive Jon couldn't help but feel guilty somehow. "No, not at all, but—"

            "I don't want to go. I want to stay here!" And with that Trip did something he never had before—turn his back on Jon, before disappearing into the lift.

            Archer stared at the metal door blankly. "Captain, should I alert Security?" T'Pol asked discreetly, but Archer shook his head before slowly turning back to face the viewscreen.

            "Captain Anshara," he began slowly, "I'm sorry for—"

            "No need to apologize, Captain," the woman interrupted gently. "He's young. And he's obviously imprinted very strongly on you."

            Archer felt warning bells go off in his head. "Imprinted?"

            Anshara smiled a little, her expression indicating she hadn't expected Archer would understand. "Perhaps if I could come aboard—it seems we have a few things to talk about."

 

            "I'm not sure how much you know about Viridians," Anshara began, glancing between Archer and Phlox, who had been summoned to the Captain's Ready Room.

            "Very little, unfortunately," the doctor replied. "Trip didn't even know what species he was."

            "We know that you don't live very long, compared to humans," Archer offered.

            Anshara shrugged. "Our lifespans do seem brief to many of the species we've encountered. But the other thing you should know about Viridians is that at a young age we imprint very strongly upon another person, usually someone older, in a position of authority." She smiled at the young woman who had accompanied her to _Enterprise_. "Lotira has imprinted upon me. She is my _ragnish_ , I am her _kaldin_. She will be captain of our ship after me, just as I imprinted upon our late captain"—her voice caught just a little—"and followed him in command."

            "Imprinting is a common behavioral process in many species, Captain," Phlox offered helpfully. "Including many species native to Earth. Usually the young imprint upon their parents, especially mothers, to learn proper social and survival behaviors."

            "And this… imprinting can occur even with members of another species?" Archer questioned.

            Anshara nodded a bit grimly. "In certain systems there is an illicit trade in Viridian young—they are prized as devoted servants, slaves even."

            "When I first met Trip he was… _with_ a group of Klingons at an outpost," Archer revealed. To say that he was their slave seemed accurate enough. "But he doesn't seem to have imprinted upon any of _them_."

            "The _kaldin_ has to be a kind person, Captain," Lotira said softly, speaking for the first time in a soft voice. "Someone who takes care of the _ragnish_. Maybe none of these other aliens were kind to him." Archer thought she was probably right about that.

            "The imprinting process begins during our adolescent years," Anshara explained. "I'm not sure how old that would be in your time, but Trip looks a little older than that to me. I'm not an expert in such things, but it's said that if the imprinting process is delayed, the attachment when finally formed is even stronger."

            Great. That explained a lot of things, at least. "Is there a way to… undo the imprinting?" Archer asked carefully, hoping he wasn't bringing up some kind of cultural taboo. "Will it fade over time, if you took Trip back with you?"

            "The bond cannot be undone in any way that I know of," Anshara informed him soberly, "and I have never heard of it fading. Captain," she continued, leaning forward, "in my travels I have met many other species, species who have strong bonds between parents and children, between those who mate, between siblings. In our species, the bond between _ragnish_ and _kaldin_ is the strongest bond there is. We are a gentle people, but if you were to harm me Lotira would not hesitate to take your life or give up her own in my defense." Lotira straightened proudly in her chair.

            Archer was quiet for a moment, but he knew he had to ask. "What would happen to Trip, if you took him away?"

            Anshara sat back. "When a _kaldin_ dies prematurely, some _ragnish_ kill themselves in despair," she answered bluntly. "Others waste away, refusing to eat or take any joy in life. But all die somehow, within a short time, especially if they are young. I can only imagine that being sent away from one's _kaldin_ would be—even worse."

 

            Archer entered the cargo bay where Malcolm and a couple of the MACOs were standing by. "A little heavy on the firepower, don't you think?" Archer asked rhetorically.

            "My nose doesn't think so, sir," the Tactical Officer disagreed. "He seemed pretty upset to me. You sure you should go in there?"

            "I'll be fine," Archer assured him. He peered at the pile of cargo containers. "Where is he, exactly?"

            Reed glanced at his hand scanner again. "Northwest quadrant, sir," he answered. "Hasn't moved in an hour or so."

            Archer nodded at Reed, then began weaving among the containers with determination. After much bending, twisting, ducking, and finally crawling, he finally ended up near a crevice between two containers he doubted he could fit into. "Trip?" he called into the darkness. "Are you in there?" Silence. "Well," Jon continued casually, "I'm just going to settle down out here." He sat on the cold metal floor, leaning against one of the containers. "Why don't you come out here and talk to me?" he suggested after a moment. "Kind of boring just sitting here by myself." Still nothing. "As I understand it from Captain Anshara," he went on conversationally, "the _ragnish_ provides companionship for the _kaldin_."

            There was a bit of noise from the dark crevice. "The _what_?" Trip finally asked, his voice echoing slightly. He sniffed as if he'd been crying.

            "The _ragnish_ —that's you," Jon clarified. "I'm the _kaldin_. It's the strongest bond in Viridian society." He paused. "I'm sure Captain Anshara could explain it to you better. They might even have something you could read in their database."

            "You're just trying to get me to go to their ship," Trip accused.

            "I thought you would enjoy visiting with other people like you."

            "You said they would take me away!"

            Jon sighed. "Yes, I did say that," he admitted slowly. "I thought you would _want_ to go."

            "Why would you think that?" Trip asked, voice breaking slightly. "What did I do to make you think that?"

            "Nothing," the older man confessed openly, leaning his head back against the container. "I guess I was just… hoping you would want to leave."

            More sniffling. He was definitely crying and Jon felt like the knife stabbed through his heart was being twisted. "You don't want me." It was not a question.

            "Humans don't have the concept of _ragnish_ and _kaldin_ ," Jon began, hoping he could make his explanation simple. And honest. "I was… uncomfortable. I didn't know what to expect."

            There was a long pause. Then Trip's voice came from the darkness again. "When I was with the Klingons, all I remembered was yelling and shoving and hiding and hurrying, trying to do whatever they wanted so I wouldn't get hurt. I knew there was something I was missing, but I didn't know what it was—until you were there. You were nice to me. You stood up for me."

            "Maybe," Jon replied half-heartedly, "maybe I was just doing that so you would help me escape."

            "Doesn't matter," Trip said firmly. "I was missing someone to be—a part of. Now I'm a part of _you_ , Captain. I know where you are, I know what mood you're in, I know what you want before you know it yourself."

            "What do I want?" Jon whispered to the shadows.

            There was some shoving and scraping, then Trip squeezed himself out of his hiding place and sat down on the floor near Jon, stealing only quick glances at him.

            "You want me to go away," Trip murmured, assuredly. "But if I go away I'll die. And you don't want me to die."

            Jon couldn't argue with any of that. "Humans don't have servants, or slaves, who follow them everywhere, attend to their every need, who would die to protect them."

            "They have friends," Trip suggested.

            Jon smiled wryly. "I think you're supposed to be more than a _friend_."

            "If you're thinking I want to mate with you, you're wrong." _That_ comment got Jon's attention. "Although, I guess if you wanted to…" Trip added haltingly.

            "I wasn't thinking that," Jon assured him. He paused, tried another line of reasoning. "The ship's not designed to accommodate people who aren't members of the crew. What would you do all day?" He held up a hand as Trip started to speak. "And don't say you'd sit on the Bridge watching me."

            "I want to be just like you," Trip told him matter-of-factly. "I want to learn everything you've learned."

            "Trip, you're only going to live another four, four and a half years," Jon began.

            "How many more will you live?"

            "If I'm lucky, fifty or sixty," he replied shortly.

            "Oh."

            "Wouldn't you rather spend that time learning about—what _you_ are interested in?" Jon persisted.

            "I'm interested in you. I don't know anything else."

            "What if you change your mind in a few months?" Jon asked, giving it one last try. "It was hard enough finding _this_ ship. It might be a long time before we meet another one going to Viridia."

            Trip actually appeared to be thinking this over and for a moment Jon found himself—disappointed. "If I ever wanted to leave," Trip answered slowly, "I bet you would _find_ me a ship." He grinned suddenly, a light in the darkness.

            Jon smiled too. This arrangement would take some getting used to—and he had _no_ idea what he was going to say to Admiral Forrestt—but really, when he thought about it, it didn't sound so bad.

            "There will have to be some rules," he began firmly.

            "Of course," Trip agreed eagerly.

            "No attacking your shipmates just because they've insulted me in some way."

            "But—"

            "No," Jon stated. "If you can't agree with that you'd better just leave right now. This crew needs to be disciplined—but I don't want them to think I have some kind of enforcer running around punishing dissent."

            "Okay," Trip decided, reluctantly.

            "You have to obey my orders just like any member of the crew would," Jon went on. "If I tell you to go to your quarters and stay there, that's _exactly_ what you do." He didn't need Trip running around underfoot in a crisis—or wandering about where Archer would worry about him. "Understood?"

            "Can't I stay with _you_ , in _your_ quarters?" Trip asked eagerly.

            "What? No."

            "Why not?"

            "Well—where would you sleep?" Jon countered. "And don't say _my_ bed."

            "I could sleep with Porthos," Trip offered.

            "On the _floor_?!" Maybe this _wasn't_ such a good idea after all.

            "Porthos has a _pillow_ ," Trip corrected.

            "I don't think it's big enough for the two of you," Jon remarked dryly.

            "Well I could get a _bigger_ one."

            "I'll think about it," Jon replied, discouragingly. "Third, you have to find something _useful_ to do with your time. Study something. Catch up on your basic education. Maybe we'll even put you to work somewhere."

            Trip looked delighted with the possibility. "Okay."

            They were quiet for a moment. Then Jon started to stand, as best he could. Trip scrambled up to help him, far more agile. "Well, Captain Anshara has a schedule to keep," he announced. "If you want to go over and visit, you'd better go soon."

            "Will you come with me?" Trip asked hopefully, pushing a container out of Jon's path.

            "You still think I'm going to warp out of here as soon as you're gone?" Archer asked, with a bit of a smirk.

            "No," Trip answered, then amended, "Well, maybe a little." He smiled as he said it. "But I think you should come with me anyway, because it's kind of _your_ culture too, now. Might as well learn about it."

            "I suppose you _do_ have a point," Jon conceded.


End file.
